Stay With Me
by Holding A Heart
Summary: AU. In 1994, Violet moves next door to the Murder House; next door to Tate. They see each other through their opposite windows for the first time. Can Violet help Tate in this filthy, goddamn horror show?
1. Chapter 1

**Tate**

I watch as their car pulls into the driveway next door, followed closely by a moving van. A woman and a man get out of the front and someone else gets out of the back. I crane my neck and see that it's a girl. She looks about my age, 18. She's wearing long sleeves despite the heat and tights that must be uncomfortable but she seems at ease. I look down at my own thick cardigan and wonder if I should be overly hot too. I don't feel the heat anymore.

They walk into the house as boxes are slowly brought in for them. I see no more from them so I turn away from the window and move to lie on my bed, the blankness of the ceiling creating something to look at. A blank canvas. I imagine what blood red would look like, dripping across the pureness, tainting the surface.

Some time later, some familiar notes of _Nirvana_ begin to drift in through the open window. I sit up and look out into their house. The window opposite mine is open and she, their daughter, is in there. That will be her room. I'm pleased at her taste in music and I drift closer, wanting a better look.

She's not like most of the girls from round here. Most of her skin is covered by layers of long clothing, like she's trying _not_ to be leered at by every meathead that passes by. She has blonde hair that falls past her shoulders and in her face. She sweeps it back a couple of times as she bends over to pick up a box or something, but it always falls back into its original place. I want to push it back, run my fingers through its softness – it looks so fine and soft in the sunlight slanting through her window.

I catch fleeting glimpses of her face as she moves about her room, moving boxes and unpacking things, but I think she's beautiful. It's like the forbidden fruit, her face just peeking out from behind her hair, the beauty shielded from wanting eyes.

She stands at the window and pulls all of her hair back from her face. I feel like I've taken a much needed breath and I'm finally relaxing. The sun hits her face just right, highlighting her beauty. She looks directly at me. Then I realise, the voices have stopped.

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><p><strong>Violet<strong>

I don't know how long he's been staring at me, but he looks like he hasn't moved in a while. The sound of Kurt Cobain's voice quietens a little in my ears as my eyes meet his. He has unruly blonde curls that I have a sudden urge to run my hands through. My eyes skip down his body to the thick, dark green cardigan he's wearing, far too hot for this weather, and then to the 'grunge is dead' t-shirt he's wearing. I feel a smirk grace my face. Another _Nirvana_ fan to play with.

He shifts slightly as I size him up, his hands curling up into his long sleeves, almost as if he's uncomfortable. I raise my eyebrow at him and his expression doesn't change, he just keeps on staring at me, directly in the eye.

He's good looking. Like, really. It's not like it hurts my eyes to keep staring at him, but something is churning in my stomach, increasing the longer his eyes bore into mine. I feel weak, but eventually I turn around and continue unpacking my shit. When I sneak a glance later, he's gone.

* * *

><p>I could feel the stares as I walked through the courtyard. They were all judging me. Every single glance I'd received today, including from some of the less bored teachers, was judging. The guys were wondering why I wasn't dressed like the rest of the half naked sluts, and the girls looked down on me for not being half naked like the rest of them.<p>

And then I see him. He's by himself, looking down at the floor. As he passes me, he looks up, as if he knew I was there. I can see up close that his eyes are so dark brown they're almost black. His look isn't judging. I want to talk to him but no words come to mind. And then the moment's gone and we've passed each other.

I take another drag on my cigarette and blow out the stream of smoke, calming my nerves from his second stare.

"Hey!" I hear the shout but I don't think it's directed at me so I don't bother to turn until a skinny nothing in a bad excuse for a skirt steps in my path. "What do you think you're doing? We have a no smoking policy here," she all but screams in my face. I suppress a sigh, not needing the added pressure of enemies.

"I'm sorry, I'm new, I didn't know," I say quickly, dropping the offending item to the floor and stepping on it, wanting to get away as quickly as possible.

"No!" she shouts. "Eat it." I stare at her as if she's just coughed up a fur ball. "Eat it, or I'll kick the _shit_ out of you!"

"No, what is your problem?" I ask, backing away from the crazy girl. She grabs the back of my neck and brings the cigarette to my lips. I struggle, feeling rather than seeing the crowd gather around us. I gather as much spit as I can in my mouth before firing it in her face. She drops her hand quickly and I don't hang around. I laugh as I hear her disgusted scream.

"Ew! So gross!"

* * *

><p>I see him again in the library.<p>

He's sitting in the corner, reading a book with birds on the front cover. I stand, staring for a moment before he feels my gaze on him and looks up, immediately catching my eye. I forget what I was looking for on the shelf and let my hand drop.

I should go up and talk to him. I feel the desire to know him flare up as I entertain the idea in my head. But not here. Not in this goddamn place where there's everybody around to spoil the moment, muscle in on it. So I tear my eyes away and decide I'll definitely talk to him later – before the day is over.

* * *

><p><strong>Tate<strong>

I saw her spit in the face of the popular girl at school. It only made me like her more. She had fire, and she was brave and she didn't care about what others thought of her. I'd seen her brush off their judging glances all day. She didn't deserve to be judged.

I'd hoped she'd come and talk to me in the library. I was sure she was going to but then she'd turned away and not looked at me again. It was better, I'd told myself, that we talk away from that hell hole. Somewhere with no prying eyes and judging faces. I wanted to get to know _her_, not the version with her guard up.

I'd looked out of my window as soon as I'd gotten home, but the shades were shut tight. I hadn't left my room, waiting for her to open them for me. I sit on my window ledge, picking at the fraying edge of my jumper.

The voices are back. They tell me to take her away from this filthy, goddamn horror show. That she needs to be taken somewhere clean and nice, away from the shit and the piss and the vomit that lines the streets. But for the first time, I don't want to listen to them. I want her to stay here. I want her to stay with me. We can have our own world, free from the horror that we don't deserve.

Music fills my ears as her window creaks open. She doesn't look surprised to see me waiting for her.

"Violet," she says first, knowing that would be my first question. Its pretty; a pretty name for a pretty face. She'd looked even more beautiful up close.

"Tate," I reply, my voice lower than normal as it carries across the air between us.

"You got another one of those t-shirts?" she asks, nodding towards me, smirking slightly. I break out into a smile I know I haven't used in a long time.

"No, but you could have this one," I say without hesitation.

"I might just take you up on that," she replies cheekily as she sits down on her window ledge, pulling out a cigarette and making herself comfortable.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading, reviews are lovely! :)<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Just wanted to say thank you so much for all the reviews for the first chapter! Seriously, they made me so happy :D This was a pretty fast update for me, and I just wanted to say don't get used to it, there might be a while in between chapters in the future but you'll get them eventually :P Thanks for reading!**

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><p><strong>Tate<strong>

"What about the Ramones?" I ask her, leaning forwards eagerly. We'd been sitting with each other for longer than I can remember, talking about music, asking each other our likes and dislikes; getting to know each other like we'd never let anyone else.

"Of course. You ever listen to Morrissey? He's cool, and he's pissy, and he hates everyone and everything," she says, swinging her legs over her window ledge. I watch the bright smile that graces her face as she talks about music, and as her eyes light up when she talks about hating everyone and everything – as if it thrills her. I grin at her before I realise I haven't answered her question.

"Yeah," I say. My answer doesn't provoke much of a response; I want her to keep talking. I want to listen to her voice and watch her expressions as she talks. The way she scowls at nothing when she's pissed, or how her gaze gets clouded and distant when she's talking about something she loves. "Where'd you move from?" I ask as she reaches back for another cigarette and lights it, the smoke pouring from her mouth in a delicate, thin line. She looks so sexy when she smokes.

"Boston." Her answer's short and sharp, and I wonder if I've hit a nerve. The secret smile – that I hope is reserved for just me – vanishes. She doesn't say anymore and I scramble for something to say.

"Do you miss it?" I ask finally. She flicks some ash to the ground and stays silent for a moment longer, taking another drag.

"I miss the weather. And the rawness. I hate it here, all the designer bullshit. No one's real here; it's like living on one big movie set," she scoffs, lifting one of her legs up to rest on the window ledge and leaning back against the frame, her face still turned towards me.

"What about your friends?" I ask with a furrowed brow. She had to have friends in Boston, I couldn't understand how someone who was so… alive could not be liked. "And a… boyfriend?" I ask, not meeting her gaze. That last one was to sate my own unrelenting curiosity. I don't miss her smirk and the small laugh that comes from her overly red lips at my prying questions. I feel a little guilty for asking so many questions. I hated it when people interfered with my business. A little guilty… but not enough to make me stop.

"No. None," she replies, the secret smile back. My face feels hot under her gaze; her light brown, translucent looking eyes. I feel my heart start to beat a little faster. She just keeps staring at me, directly in the eye. I suddenly hate the gap between our houses. I want nothing more than to run my fingers through her hair and push my lips against hers, taste her sweetness on my tongue. "You okay, there?" she asks eventually, laughing openly at me. And I don't mind.

"So, why'd you move here?" I ask without replying. I felt like it was a rhetorical question. She knew what she was doing. I needed to know more, figure her out.

"My dad had an affair. My mom _literally_ caught him in the act. And the worst part is, a few months before, my mom had, like, this brutal miscarriage. The baby was seven months old. We had to have this macabre funeral and everything." She blows out more smoke with a furrowed brow. I know what she's thinking – why has she just told me all of this? Why is she sharing? I'm wondering too.

"That's horrible," I say genuinely. "If you love someone you should _never_ hurt them." I catch her eye briefly before she turns her head slightly, raising her eyebrows in a 'tell him that' way.

I tilt my head to the side, watching her for a moment in the comfortable silence. The way she looks like she's in a scene from a film, the way she's perched on her window in the moonlight, cigarette hanging limply from her fingers. I ingrain the picture in my memory.

* * *

><p>"Tate? Tate, honey, its Mama," I hear Constance's sickly sweet voice from the other side of the door. I ball my hands into fists, gritting my teeth. She wants something from me. She wouldn't talk to me like I was going to break just from the sound of her voice otherwise. Maybe, one day, I would.<p>

I don't say anything but the door cracks open anyway, her perfectly in place hair appearing through the crack. I don't look up from my book. She steps gingerly into the room, like she might trigger a bomb. The way she looks at me with such caution, such fright – I'm the bomb. She perches on the edge of my mattress, her hand hovering over my leg as if she's going to _touch_ me. My eyes flick up to hers briefly. I see the flash of fear in hers. She drops her hand, picking it back up moments later to place it at the base of her neck – a nervous habit.

"Tate, I've booked an appointment with a new therapist for you after… the incident with the last one," she says, her voice trailing off, becoming a little harder and finally displaying her frustration with me. I feel my lips wanting to form a smile, the voices telling me to grin at her, but I don't want to show the cocksucker any type of emotion. "It's with Dr. Harmon. He and his family just moved next door. Isn't that nice?" she asks as if I'm a child, but I can't concentrate on my hate for Constance.

Next door. Dr. Harmon. He's Violet's dad. The adulterer. What an ironic job he has. Claiming to fix other people's problems when all he's done is create a tangle of his own.

"Sure, whatever," I mumble, moving my mouth as little as possible. I don't say anything more, my body itching all over at her close proximity. If she doesn't leave soon… The voices are screaming inside my head. She rises from my bed and leaves without another word. I unclench my teeth and breathe deeply, taking in ragged, uneven breaths.

I shoot up from my bed, pacing by the window. The voices are out of control, I can't get them to shut up! I grasp at my hair, pulling so tightly I can feel chunks rip out in my hand. The pain in my scalp feels good, it helps.

Her window's still open.

I can't see her face, but I can see her legs under her covers. The voices calm to a busy murmur. I sigh heavily in relief. It's still not enough though. I stand over the sink and pull one of the blunt razors across my skin, watching the evil seep out through the red.

* * *

><p>"And how do the visions start, Tate?" Dr. Harmon looks bored. He's supposed to look interested in what I'm saying, and he does to some extent, but his mask is slipping. Probably thinking about his little fuck buddy back in Boston. It's been three sessions and I've finally told him I see things. Bad things. I hope I can shock him into doing his job properly.<p>

"I prepare for the noble war…"

_I'm in the hallway. People are staring at me, confused, judging, cautious, but none of them frightened yet. They move out of the way as I pass, not looking at any of them; looking straight ahead. Some of the braver ones stand their ground, just to be knocked brutally aside as I push past them._

_Suddenly there's a weight in my hand. I don't have to look at it. I know what it is. And it's ready for me to use. _

_There's a girl a few feet away from me, standing with her back against a white wall. She looks nice, innocent. The sound ricochets off the walls as I pull the trigger, the contents of her head now painting a picture on the blank canvas. It's beautiful. She's safe. _

_Someone screams. I don't like the noise. They're frightened. They need to be saved. Their blood fills the hands of the person they were stood next to. They should relish in the sticky warmth in their hands, the pain of someone else taken away, ripped from their body. _

_More and more people are saved, their evil being bleed out onto the pure walls. I turn into a classroom. No one has moved. I don't know why they haven't reacted to the gunshots, but it always happens like this. And I save every last one of them. I raise the gun, scan the crowd. _

_But then she's there. _

_She's never there. She can't be there. I don't want to take her away; I can't. I'm too selfish for that. She has to stay with me and we can live in our own world, blocking out the horror as best we can. I want to bring her down with me; I don't want to hand her over. _

I stop telling Dr. Harmon about the visions abruptly, unnerved by the sudden appearance of Violet. I sit, stunned, looking at my Chucks and not uttering another word to him. I wonder if he thinks I've disgusted myself with my descriptions. He can't know that I was thinking about his daughter, with a gun in my hand, her wide eyes staring at me. I peek up at his face. He's interested now – confused.

"You target people you like?" he asks me, wanting to make sure he had it right. He doesn't understand. Stupid man.

"I don't feel bad. I don't feel sorrow for them… even when they beg for me to stop. They can't know what I'm doing. But they will. I'm helping to take them away from this filthy goddamn horror show," I whisper, looking Dr. Harmon directly in the eye. His watch beeps and he jumps slightly. I smile triumphantly.

"Our time-" he clears his throat. "Our time is up for today, Tate." I nod and rise from my seat. I head out of the door with one last look at the doctor. He looks disturbed. The voices chatter excitedly.

* * *

><p><strong>Violet<strong>

I see him coming out of my dad's office and a stunned expression crosses my face.

"Tate? What are you doing here?" He looks startled, almost like I've caught him. Its weird, him standing a couple of feet away when normally there's a large gap between us. His hands are curling up into his sleeves; he's nervous.

"I, um, I came to see your dad. He's my therapist. This is my third session," he says, his eyes averted as if he'd see judgment in my eyes. I want to laugh at his insecurity. I would be the last person to pass judgment on him. I tilt my head slightly, narrowing my eyes, wondering why he could be in therapy.

"Well, don't hold out much hope. My dad's a shit therapist," I joke, trying to make light of the situation, put him at ease.

He grins, looking down at his feet still, the grin I love to see on his face. It's almost like a child's grin, when they've been caught doing something naughty that they're proud of. His dimples make him seem so young, it makes me smile too. He looks up at me from under his eyelashes, glad that I'm not being serious with him. It looks so seductive and I know that with just one step forward I could reach up and kiss his mouth, his dimples, his smile. But I don't. Not yet. I want to draw this out for as long as I can make myself.

I've already decided that I'm going to read his file. I know there's no way of stopping myself either. If I'm going to get in deeper, I'm going to need to be in possession of all the facts.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you so much for the reviews again! I'm sorry I can't reply to all of them individually, I just don't have time! But I send you all virtual hugs! :D This was supposed to be up yesterday, but I had to revise for an exam, so what are you gonna do? Anyway, it's up now, enjoy! :D **

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><p><strong>Violet<strong>

I know I don't have long. He'll be gone for ten, fifteen minutes maximum. He says he's getting milk or some other bullshit excuse but I know he still smokes. I walk up to the filing cabinet where my dad keeps all his patient's files, praying that it isn't locked. I need to know. I can't press the feeling down in my stomach; I'm excited. I want to know what dark thoughts lurk inside Tate's head. What kind of fuck-up he is. I feel tingles spread throughout my entire body as the draw slides open easily in my grip.

It's not hard to find his file and pull it out. I'm torn as to whether I should read it here, or whether I'd have enough time to run upstairs and read it in my room, the added thrill of knowing he's probably only a few feet away from me, violating his privacy. I'm wasting time so I perch on the edge of the leather chair and flip open the brown file.

I squint to read my dad's chicken scratch writing, my eyes frantically scanning the words. There are a few notes from when he's spoken to Mrs. Langdon. He used to run track. He was intelligent, got good grades. He was quiet but she hadn't used to be concerned. She blamed the death of his brother, Beau. She'd said that that had made him 'snap'. He cut class, dropped out of track, became reclusive.

Then there are some notes from his sessions. At first there's some unimportant shit about Tate not being very open, making small talk about the weather and stuff but never the actual problem. I sigh, wondering if he hadn't gotten to any of the good stuff yet. It shouldn't surprise me; I'd even told Tate my dad was a shit therapist. But then the last few lines catch my attention.

He had visions; fantasies. He's in school with a gun. He kills people, innocent people. He thinks they deserve saving, that they need to be taken away from the filth of the world. He likes the blood – thinks it bleeds out evil.

My forearms feel heavy; the cuts feel like they're itching, visible through my sleeves. I feel like there's an electric current running through my body, reading about Tate's private thoughts and fantasies. They thrill me, put me on edge.

My dad has put a note at the end, something about a possible chemical imbalance. I snort. He doesn't understand his patients. He wants to explain everything with science. A couple of pills and you'll be fine. Easy money.

I've scanned through the file a few times before I realise how much time must have passed and replace it quickly, just having time to dash across to the kitchen before I hear keys in the lock. I grab a glass and fill it with water as my dad turns the corner, smiling at me.

"Hey, honey," he says, placing a hand on my shoulder and kissing the top of my head before turning to put the decoy milk in the refrigerator. I can feel questions about Tate teetering on the tip of my tongue, so I pick the least prying one to avoid suspicion.

"Hey, do you treat that guy next door? Blonde, tall. It's just, I've seen him around school a few times and I saw him leave here the other day. He seemed pretty normal to me," I say, trying to appear nonchalant.

"Yeah, Tate. He seems like a good kid… but listen, Violet. I want you to stay away from him. He's not… stable." I pick up on my dad's nice way of saying messed up straight away. "Just… promise me you'll keep your distance, Vi." I stare at him for a couple of seconds, making him sweat a little.

"Whatever. I wasn't going to talk to him anyway," I reply, leaving the kitchen knowing I've made him think he's put the idea in my head now, raising his blood pressure a little. It gives me a sick pleasure to know I've made his heart beat a little faster, panic at the front of his mind. I smile to myself, allowing just one small chuckle as I ascend the stairs.

* * *

><p>I set the unwanted glass of water down on my nightstand and stand in front of the open window.<p>

"Tate?" I call, loud enough for him to hear, but only him. There's a shuffling sound before he appears at his window, his curly hair all mussed up and in disarray like he's just taken a nap… or just had sex. I shake the images of my hands raking through his hair from my mind and return his smile. "I'm not supposed to talk to you," I say cryptically, raising an eyebrow at him. He frowns and furrows his brow. I preen a little at his sadness by the thought of it.

"Why not?" he asks, not able to find his own reasoning.

"My dad thinks you're messed up," I answer, not bullshitting him. He can take it. He considers this for a moment.

"What do you think?" he finally asks, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his stripy jumper.

"We're all messed up," I say without a moment's hesitation. He grins his child's grin at me, looking down at his feet. "Do you wanna come over here?" I ask, somewhat nervously, biting my lip and folding my arms across my chest in an almost defensive stance.

"Won't your dad see me?" he says, taking a few steps towards the window anyway. Normally the idea of irritating my dad would be very appealing, but I don't want to drag Tate into it. My gaze flicks between his face and the thick, sturdy looking tree that separates our two houses.

"Not if you climb," I say mischievously. He gauges the distance for a couple of seconds before taking a step up onto the window ledge. My breathing hitches as he reaches out, clinging on to the window frame behind him for support. My worry is in vain, though, as he swings easily to the other side of the tree and reaches towards my window. I hold out my hand, conscious that this is our first physical contact. He looks at my hand for a second before grasping it firmly in his. His hand is warm and strong and sturdy, and I can feel the muscles tensing as he pulls himself into my room, landing on my floor with a soft thud.

"That could be useful," I quip, looking over his shoulder at the tree once more. He doesn't laugh as I expect him to. His expression is one of concentration, his gaze focused on my forearm.

* * *

><p><strong>Tate<strong>

I'd seen them when she'd held her hand out to me. Pretty little scars scattered over her delicate wrist and climbing their way up her arm, bright on her pale skin. I wasn't sure whether to be concerned that something had upset her, that she thought evil needed to be released, or pleased that we shared the same view, had yet another thing in common. She notices my gaze and pulls her sleeves down further, self-consciously.

I take her wrist lightly in my hand and her eyes meet mine again, her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Her gaze follows my arm as I lift it up and pull back my sleeve, revealing my own marred flesh. She studies it for a moment, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, occasionally daring a glance back up at my face. I stand in silence, letting her process her thoughts. I see her hand twitch up slightly before it drops to her side. She decides against this and confidently brings her hand up, taking my wrist in a feather-light touch, running her fingers over the raised scars. I like the gentleness of her fingers' exploration of my skin, the way she fears she may hurt me. Her cautiousness doesn't stem from fear, like the cocksucker, but from kindness.

"Why'd you do it?" she whispers after some time standing in the silence, in the middle of her room. I've never heard her voice sound so quiet and vulnerable before and it makes my heart ache. I shrug.

"I don't know if you'd understand the explanation," I settle on saying, not liking that it sounds like I'm insulting her intelligence, but I don't know if I can take seeing the expression that was on Dr. Harmon's face on Violet's. The disgust and misunderstanding. She pauses for a moment.

"I think I might understand a little better than most people," she finally mutters to the carpet. There's a look of… guilt on her face? Then I realise she's done it. She read my file. I'm not angry, not even surprised. I would have done exactly the same thing in her situation. In a strange way, I'm kind of relieved she read it. She's knows now, she doesn't have to be kept in the dark. I don't have to lie to her. Most importantly, she's still here.

"What about you?" I ask, sensing that my actions no longer need the pretence of an explanation. She turns away from me, dropping my arm that I hadn't forgotten she was holding, and walks towards her bed, crawling into the middle and sitting cross legged. She shrugs.

"Shit happens," she says, making it a closed subject. I'm sure she's aware that I could make a pretty educated guess as to her reasoning and doesn't waste her breath on pointless clarifications.

I stand awkwardly in the same spot, wondering if I should follow her or find somewhere else in the room to sit; her bed seems much to intimate a place for just now, even if I would only be sitting. Eventually, hopefully, but not yet. She tilts her head almost imperceptibly.

"Come here," she mutters, kind of embarrassed but almost mocking me at the same time for just staying standing where I was, for being a wimp. To be honest, I didn't know what was happening. I'd been on girls beds before, but that was meaningless; a distraction. This was _something_ – something new. I keep my eyes locked on hers as I crawl over the rails at the bottom of her bed and sit cross legged, mirroring her. I reach up to brush my hair out of my eyes before settling my hands in my lap.

* * *

><p><strong>Violet<strong>

"So what's your situation?" I ask, reaching for a cigarette and my lighter. He's silent, not understanding my question. "At home. I told you about my fucked up family. Your turn," I elaborate, blowing a stream of smoke into the air. He follows it with his eyes until it's run out before looking down to pick at a loose thread in my comforter.

"My dad left when I was six, left me with a mom who's a cocksucker. Literally, a cocksucker," he lets out a humourless laugh. "How sick is that? Alone with a cocksucker. She sucked the guy off who lives in our house, only so she could get back what she lost when we ran out of money. He thinks they're in love. He's blind." He stops his assault on my comforter, the loose thread a lot longer than it had been before he'd started pulling on it. He flattens it against the rest of the sheet, as if that will put it back into its right place. He finally looks me in the eye. "But I have my sister, Addie. I like her a lot. We're friends. And I have… had, my brother, Beau." The name causes a flash in my memory, back to Tate's file.

I notice there are tears falling free and fast down Tate's cheeks and I throw him a sympathetic look before I can stop myself. He startles, as if he's only just realised he's actually crying and lifts his sleeve-covered fist to rub angrily at the trails of salt water, leaving harsh red marks on his delicate skin. I pull his hands away before he can do any more damage and run my thumbs, with a feather-light touch, over the red patches on his face. He closes his eyes and lets out a relieved sigh.

"I'm tired," he murmurs from under my hands. Before I know what I'm doing, I grab his shoulders and pull him down to rest his head on the pillows, curling my body around him. He opens his eyes briefly to search my face before his heavy lids get the better of him, and he cuddles up close to my body.

I watch his face in slumber, void of any pain and his features completely relaxed. It makes him look child-like – like his grin. I lean in dangerously and press my lips to his damp cheek before shutting my own eyes and drifting into sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Violet**

The sun still hasn't come up when I wake with a slight, barely audible gasp. I stare up at my ceiling as my eyes adjust to the lack of light and the black becomes grey and shapes start forming around me.

I can hear heavy breathing next to me and suddenly remember – wondering how I could forget – that Tate is curled up next to me, one of his arms slung heavily, and protective, over my stomach, his face nuzzled nicely in my neck. His breath tickles my skin every time he breathes out and I want to giggle at the sensation.

I feel content to stay where I am. I feel safe and protected and I don't want Tate to move, ever. But I fear he'll be missed and, from what I had heard of his mother, get into trouble for it. As slowly as I can, I roll my body onto my side to face Tate, our face inches apart. His hand shifts to my hip and pulls me in closer, fitting me perfectly to the lines of his body. I feel myself relax into him and all I want to do is shut my eyes and fall asleep in his embrace again. But I know I can't.

I feel brave as I stare at the close proximity of his sleeping face, his eyelashes fluttering delicately, and I start to lean in. I barely let my lips ghost over his but I instantly want more. I feel guilty for stealing kisses from him so I pull back and run my thumb over his cheek instead, rousing him from his peaceful slumber gently.

"Tate? Tate, you need to wake up," I whisper as quietly as possible. He moans in objection slightly and burrows his face further into my hair. I laugh almost silently and try again. "Come on, Tate. You need to wake up. For me?" I try, somehow knowing that it would work. His impossibly dark eyes flutter open tiredly.

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><p><strong>Tate<strong>

I feel a slight pressure against my lips, barely there, and I'm not sure if I'm dreaming, but I hope it's real. I can hear her soft voice coaxing me out of my sleep and I moan in protest, burrowing into her body, her smell, her warmth. It surrounds me and I feel relaxed and relieved for the first time in so long.

"Come on, Tate. For me?" I know she's won as I can't deny her anything. I open my eyes and I'm greeted with the sight of her beautiful face just inches from mine. I wonder why I ever wanted to close my eyes in the first place. "Hi," she says with a triumphant smile.

"Hi," I say, my voice thick with sleep, my tongue glued to the roof of my mouth. She shivers slightly against me and I use it as excuse to pull her body impossibly closer to me. She's running her fingers through my hair again, brushing stray curls off my face and I can't help but let my eyes drift shut with the sensation. I moan slightly as she tugs softly on my hair, sending new sensations down my spine. She giggles and I open my eyes quickly to catch her smile. "What time is it?" I ask suddenly as I realise it's still dark outside.

"I don't know, four-thirty, five?" she replies, shrugging her shoulder, her eyes not leaving mine to search for a clock.

"Remind me again why I have to wake up then?" I ask, chuckling slightly at her odd behaviour. Her eyes finally release mine as she looks down at her hands that are playing idly with the front of my shirt. She looks nervous as I wait patiently for her response.

"I don't know. I just thought… that maybe your mom would see you were missing and she'd get angry and… you know, you'd get into trouble, or something," she mumbles to the sheets. I want to laugh at her concern for me, trying to keep me safe from _Constance_ of all people. I lift her head up with my finger under her chin.

"I like that you worry for me. But Constance is more scared of me than I am of her," I say with a dark laugh. "And she won't even notice that I'm gone, don't worry," I finish, giving her a comforting smile. She hesitates for a second, searching my eyes, before she smiles back. "Besides, if she did get pissed that I was gone, all the more reason for me to stay," I add, leaning closer to her minutely. I relish the laugh that escapes her lips as she huddles back into me and settles down again.

I enjoy the feeling of her in my arms for a while longer before I think of something. "Hey, Violet?" I ask, checking to see if she's still awake. She hums a response against my chest. "Since we're awake, did you wanna go somewhere with me? I want to show you something." She looks up at me and smiles.

"Sure."

* * *

><p>The sky is paling and becoming a wide blanket of pinks and reds and oranges in the morning light. It reflects delicately across the rippling water as it laps at the sand. Violet's hand is clasped firmly in mine as we clamber precariously over jagged rocks and debris to get to my favourite, secluded part of the beach.<p>

I lay down the blanket under my arm on the sand and pull her down to sit next to me. She leans into my side straight away, burrowing under my arm for extra warmth and I gladly wrap my arm around her and pull her close. We sit in silence for a while, staring out into the sea.

"I come here a lot," I start, my eyes not leaving the ocean. "When the world starts closing in and I feel like I'm drowning, choking. And I look out and I see this… vast, limitless expanse and I think. High school counts for jack shit. That… that's your future," I tell her firmly, nodding out to the horizon. She looks up at me and smiles slightly, her eyes wide and open and nothing but accepting.

"You feel like that a lot? Like you're choking, I mean," she asks tentatively.

"Not so much anymore," I tell her truthfully, hoping I'm not scaring her with how much I've come to rely of her to keep me from doing something I'd regret; from fulfilling the fantasies that roam through my head, the voices that plague my mind.

"You don't want to…" she hesitates, stiffening slightly by my side.

"What?"

"I don't know. Those things that you told my dad – I read you file, Tate. You don't want to do those things anymore, do you?" she asks cautiously, but I still admire her braveness, the fact that she admitted to me, so readily, that she has read my file. She was so strong.

"I know that probably freaked you out – you should have seen your dad's face!" I add, lightening the mood as we both laugh out loud for a second. "But you're still here, you didn't run screaming… so I trust you." Her face is sombre again as she watches me talk. "They're still there. I don't think they'll ever go away as long as I'm here. But, they've faded; they're less intense. It doesn't feel like my only option now that you're here. By my side."

* * *

><p><strong>Violet<strong>

I'm touched by his confession. Everything makes me feel more drawn to him, but his last few words…

'…_now that you're here. By my side.'_

Did he mean helping him through it, or by his side in his visions. Was I there, holding a gun to student's heads too? A nagging thought in the back of my head won't let me completely dismiss the idea, but I can push it away for now, focusing on the more positive side of things.

"Thank you for trusting me," I whisper into the quietness of the day break. He smile's his full grin at me and I can't hold off any longer.

I stretch up on the sand and press my cold lips against his. I can feel their roughness against my own and I like it. He leans forward, pushing himself further into me, holding the back of my neck to keep me still. His mouth moves against mine in perfect rhythm and his tongue darts out to lick tentatively across my bottom lip. I moan into his mouth and he seizes the opportunity to thrust his tongue into my mouth, battling with my own. I hear his throaty groan as my tongue shoves against his, wanting to taste him.

My body is tingling like it never has before when I've made out with a guy. I'm so aware of every move he makes, where his hands are, where his body is pressed against mine. He doesn't feel close enough so I begin to tilt my body back, lying down on the blanket and bringing him down with me.

We stay there, making out like the teenagers we are, neither one of us moving any further than that. I want to, at one point, reach down and touch his obvious arousal through his jeans, eliciting new moans from him, but I hold back yet again. We're testing each other; playing a game. We are seeing who will give in first.

The sun has turned the sky a pale blue by the time we leave the beach and wander home, with bruised lips and rumpled clothes, hand in hand.

* * *

><p><strong>Aww, how sweet :P Thank you so much to everyone who has readreviewed so far! Keep doing what you're doing :D **

**This chapter took a little longer 'cause of exams but it'll all hopefully die down soon :)**

**Also, if you have any requests for fics you'd like me to write, feel free to leave them in a review or PM me :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Violet**

People had gotten used to seeing me and Tate together around school by now. When we first showed up holding hands, people were openly staring at us, at our joint hands. Tate pulled me to a stop and stared back at a few of the nosey fuckers before pulling me roughly against him and, for lack of a better description, shoving his tongue down my throat. I'm not one for PDA so I was going to pull away and maybe shove him playfully in the chest for good measure, but his lips felt so good, hot and warm against mine, that I had melted into the kiss.

I'd spent a lot of time kissing Tate since that morning on his beach; our beach. I couldn't stop myself from flicking my eyes to glance at his lips every few seconds when we were together. He'd catch me every time and pull me against his hard, safe chest, melding his mouth to mine and exploring my dental arrangement with his tongue as I turned to mush against him. It was taking everything I had not to jump his bones in a couple of the heated sessions we'd had together, but I wasn't going to back down that easily.

I'm waiting for Tate to get out of class when I feel someone push my shoulder, hard, from behind. I stumble forward, dropping my cigarette in surprise. I wait for someone rushing past to apologise for knocking into me accidently, but no one does. I turn slowly and see Leah – the girl who tried to get me to eat my cigarette – standing behind me with a smirk on her face. My face hardens and I scowl at her smug expression, wanting to punch her right in the fake nose.

"What have I told you about smoking here?" she says, her voice unnervingly calm and even. Her arms are folded indignantly over her chest. I shrug and lean against the wall behind me, blowing the smoke that was still in my lungs into her face. She coughs dramatically and her face darkens. "Where's your little body guard? The crazy one. You guys are _perfect_ for each other; you're a persistent little bitch and he's a fucked up loser!" she shouts at me, spitting slightly in my face. I can feel my face heat up at her words. A crowd has almost started to gather too – just a couple of people have stopped to see what all the shouting's about. I'm not angry at her insults towards me. But she sure as hell is gonna wish she didn't insult Tate.

"You fake, plastic, Barbie bitch!" I scream at her, lunging forward to smack her across the face. She fights back, grabbing my arms and flailing about, catching my cheek with her expensive nails as I rip a chunk of her hair out and get in a good few hits. She throws me against a lunch table and my head hits the surface hard, sending painful reverberations through my skull and I can feel warm liquid begin to trickle down my forehead. There was definitely gonna be a bruise under my ribcage.

I kick out my foot and hear the satisfying thwack as her body collides with the wall. I turn and she's already recovered, running towards me and wrestling me to the ground. I move my arms as much as possible, happy when my fist hits her in the eye. She's on top of me, the chants from the crowd egging us on. She's suddenly got the upper hand and I wish Tate was here. I look around for something… my cigarette is lying, hot and tempting, just a few inches away. I stretch out and pick it up easily, grinding it down into her hand. She shrieks and pulls away. I waste no time in getting off the ground and running as fast as I can, feeling weaker and less in control the further I get.

"Ahh, she friggin' _burned_ me!" is all I hear as I flee quickly away from the scene of the crime. My parents don't need another reason to argue. So much for our 'fresh start'.

I'm too busy running down the hallway that I almost fall backwards when I collide with something solid. The familiar smell and feel of his chest is unmistakable and I look up into the worried, black eyes of Tate. He looks happy to see me, a small smile gracing his face, but also confused.

"Whoa, Vi, why are you running? What was all that noise… what the hell happened to your head?" he exclaims, all previous questions forgotten as he catches sight of the red trickling down my face. His face turns a sickly white – paler than his normal skin colour – and I think he's gonna throw up.

"Tate? Are you all right? Are you gonna throw up?" I ask him as he closes his eyes tightly. His fists are clenched tightly and he's started to shake. "Tate, you're scaring me…" I say, panic starting to rise in my voice. I want to take a step away from him, closer to him, anything, but my feet are rooted to the ground.

"Violet," he says finally, his body rigid but his voice is slow and measured. My body prickles all over. "I don't want you to tell me who did this to you, because I might do something bad. I _will_ do something bad. Just… make sure I don't find out, okay?" he says, not opening his eyes at all.

My body slowly starts functioning again and my eyes begin to water. I'm scared of him and scared for him and touched by him all in the same moment, and I'm not sure which feeling is more prominent. I reach out my hands and uncurl his fingers, slipping my own through his.

"Tate, open you eyes," I command and he does so, tears glistening in them. My heart lurches. "I'm fine, okay? It's going to be fine. I won't tell you. I'm here, I'm fine," I say as soothingly as possible, trying to calm him down. I guess anger issues weren't something my dad had gotten to yet with Tate. He looks down at me, his face crumpling as he takes in my battered appearance. He wipes away some of the blood from my face and I wince as he brushes over the cut. He looks like he's about to burst into tears. I quickly step into his embrace further and reach up to lock my arms around his neck and press my lips urgently to his.

Someone heckles us as they walk past and I flip them off, annoyed that they are here, that they felt the need to interrupt something that's not theirs. Eventually I pull away to look into his eyes.

"Thank you for being so concerned for me," I whisper to him, not moving my arms from around his neck and his are securely around my waist. He smiles at me shyly before releasing me to take one of my hands.

"I've got a first aid kit in my truck. I'll clean you up," he mumbles and I let him lead me away.

* * *

><p>My window is open but there is no noise coming from Tate's room. He light is off and I assume he is sleeping. His house is empty – all but him – as his family have gone on some kind of vacation for spring break, without him.<p>

He's been extra careful with me lately, like I might break in his hands if he presses to hard. Every time we kiss he's gentle and distant instead of heated and passionate like before. I even tried to go further with him one time, but he pulled away.

We were on our beach. He was hovered cautiously above me as I moved my lips against his feverishly, like the first time we were here. I snaked my hand down to the bulge in his pants that was pressing against my thigh.

"I want to," I whispered breathlessly as his lips left mine for a fleeting moment.

"No, Vi, don't," he said, moving my hand and not leaning back down to kiss me again. He just looked at me, straight in the eye, gauging my reaction. My head fell, defeated, against the sand.

"I'm sorry, I just thought…" I trailed off, embarrassed and rejected. I wanted to run away and not have him stare so intently at my face but I was trapped under his body.

"Violet. I swear, I wanna be with you so badly. I just…" he paused, fighting for a reason he could use. He settled for continuously staring into my eyes. I began to sit up and he moved off me, wrapping his arm around me before I could leave. I sat, looking out towards the horizon with him until it was way past dark, frustrated, rejected and wet.

I move away from his window and flick off my own light, burrowing under my covers and trying to forget how distant and almost… _cold_ Tate's been towards me since I was in that fight. Just thinking of that night on the sand, his body pushed up against mine, his arousal against my thigh, has left me pressing my thighs together. I rub them together uselessly for a while before I sigh in frustration and let my hand trail down my body, imagining it was his hand, calloused and rough against my smooth skin. I slip it under my panties, letting my fingers trail across my wet sex and I bite down on my lips as I let them slide inside. It's not enough.

My eyes shoot open as I pull my hand away angrily. It needs to be him. I need to feel his hands on me, him inside of me. I don't care about losing anymore. I sit up sharply, pull on my shoes and make my way to the window. The distance from my window ledge to the tree looks a lot bigger now that I'm looking at it but I steel myself and reach for the closest branch.

Its takes a while and a few near-misses but eventually I grasp Tate's window ledge and land, with little grace, in his room. It's completely dark but there is enough light shining in from outside for me to see everything clearly.

He's in bed, completely still, his head turned away from me. I can't tell if my graceless entrance woke him or not, but he isn't moving anyway. I creep over to the bed and toe my shoes off, lifting up one corner of the covers minutely and slipping in. It's warm and smells utterly of him and I slide over to his body, placing one of my legs over his hip and pressing a tender kiss to the nape of his neck. He hums contentedly and turns onto his back, his eyes fluttering as they focus. I take this opportunity to pull myself completely on top of him, straddling his waist. He is only wearing pyjama bottoms and I run my hands greedily down his bare chest.

"Violet?" he says, his hands instinctively resting on my hips. His voice sounds clear and perfectly awake. I lean down to whisper in his ear.

"I want you. I need you," I sigh, grinding my hips against his in only the slightest of motions. He shivers beneath me and I can feel his hardness start to press through the layers of clothing between us. He groans as I press down on him, with the smallest increase in pressure.

He grasps the back of my neck and pulls me down for the fiery kiss I've been craving for so long. His tongue battles with mine and his hips lift up to cause more friction between us. He flips us over quickly and I let out a small squeal of excitement. I rake my fingers hungrily through his blonde curls, tugging slightly every so often. My other hand ventures down his body and my fingers dip below his waistline. I grasp him in my hand and he lets out a strangled cry of pleasure. It's enough for him to pause though.

"Violet, I…" I cut him off.

"No! Don't do this, Tate," I say, suddenly angry, withdrawing my hand. "You've been acting weird since the day I got in a fight and you're treating me like I'm some little china dolls; like I'm going to break if you hold me too hard. I'm not. I want you to touch me – like you used to. I want to be with you, Tate. I want to feel you inside me, to feel us together, like we should be," I finish, breathing hard. He doesn't look me in the eye as he speaks.

"I was afraid… that I'd scared you with how I'd acted that day. You should have seen your face, Violet." His eyes are watering. "You looked so panicked. So cautious, like I was going to break. I didn't want to make you feel like that, like I could hurt you. I want to be gentle with you, Violet." I take his face in my hands.

"I'm not scared, Tate. Just let go and _be with me_!" He stares into my eyes for a while before leaning down to recapture my lips, picking up where we left off.

He isn't cautious anymore. His lips bruise mine with their force and his tongue invades my mouth. I moan at the sensations, a smile on my face under his assault on my mouth. I slip my hand back down to stroke his length, eliciting pleasurable growls from the back of Tate's throat. He moves off me to pull his pyjama pants and boxers down in one swift movement, then moving to take mine off, along with my shirt, leaving me in just my panties, breathing heavily beneath him. He stares down at me with an animalistic gleam in his eyes, like I am his prize, before he bends forward to capture one of my nipples in his mouth, pulling it between his teeth and licking over my breast with his tongue as his hand kneads my other one and I writhe with need beneath him.

When he has spent some time on my breasts, he kisses down my chest, my stomach and stops at the elastic of my panties. He looks up at me from underneath his eyelashes as his fingers hook under the fabric and pull it slowly down my legs. I blush as he stares at me. He suddenly runs two fingers between my folds, making us both moan.

"So wet," he breathes, his voice full of lust, his breath fanning over my core. My hips buck closer to him. He places a hand on my hips to keep them in place and nudges my thighs further apart with other. I let out an inaudibly gasp as his tongue swipes over my core, swirling around my clit, sending sparks through my body. My hands bury in his hair, holding him there.

I can feel my walls clenching as he continues, my release building in my stomach. I'm almost there when he stops, pulls away and kisses me roughly, absorbing my whine in his lips. I can taste myself on his lips, his tongue and another rush of wetness pools between my legs. He reaches over me to grab a condom and rolls it on himself before lining the tip of his cock up to my entrance. His eyes are on mine as he thrusts forward quickly, filling me up in one swift motion.

"Oh God," he rasps, leaning his head into my shoulder as he pulls out slowly and slams back in again, hitting spots inside me that have never been reached before. I scream a little louder each time he thrusts deeper into me, and I can feel my release building again, almost painfully.

"Tate… faster. _Harder_. Please!" I whine pathetically as I feel I can't take much more. He does as I ask, picking up his pace, grasping the headboard behind him for leverage as the bed smacks angrily against the wall with each pound. I raise my hips to meet his every time, skin to skin, our hips lining up perfectly.

Tate tilts his hips slightly as he thrusts in powerfully one last time, hitting the perfect spot, before I'm coming, harder than I've ever come before. My eyes roll back into my head as he continues to move in and out as I come. My walls clench around him and it's too much, and he comes not long after.

He collapses on top of me, not worried about crushing me anymore, completely exhausted from his efforts. I run my fingers contentedly through his damp curls as he catches his breath and then rolls off me, pulling me against him and drawing patterns on my bare back with his fingertips.

"See?" I comment sleepily. "I don't break." He chuckles beneath my blissed out body, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"No, you don't," he mutters. "That was so… wow, Violet," he chuckles again as I raise my head to him and smile brightly. His face is suddenly serious.

"I love you, Violet," he says, as if the realisation has surprised even himself. I look into his dark eyes for a couple of seconds before I realise I have no reason to be hesitating. There was never any doubt, right from the start. I was completely hooked.

"I love you too, Tate," I say with a smile. He grins his child's grin at me and kisses me deeply. When we break apart, I burrow into Tate's arms, swinging my leg over his hip again and wrapping my arms around him, safe in his arms.

I'm finally where I want to be, with Tate, where we are together and no one can hurt us. At least it feels that way for now.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for all the reviews, keep doing what you're doing! :D <strong>

**If you have any requests for fics you want me to write, feel free to leave them in a review or PM me :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Tate**

I blink a couple times as my eyes adjust to the light now filtering through the shutters on the window. I feel a foreign warmth against my side and over my chest and I stiffen for a moment before memories come flooding back to me. A wide smile spreads across my face as I look down at Violet's sleeping form, curled delicately up to my side. I push some of her hair away from her face, gently, and she snuggles up closer, sighing in content. I'm too happy to move so I let my eyes drift closed again.

* * *

><p>When I wake up again, I feel cold and the bed feels too empty. I panic for a minute, my hand running over the sheets and I worry that it all never happened. I freeze as I hear a giggle from the other side of the room.<p>

"Looking for me?" she questions seductively, almost mocking my frantic searching for her. I sit up and my breath leaves all of a sudden as my eyes land on her. She's found my 'grunge is dead' t-shirt that I offered to let her have when we first met from where I'd left it on the back of my desk chair. She's wearing that and my thick, green cardigan. And nothing else. The t-shirt is too big for her and falls just above mid-thigh but I never want her to wear anything else. "You know, I've become pretty attached to this t-shirt. I think I might keep it," she smirks as at me, burrowing further into her stolen clothes.

"Fine by me," I breathe when I find my voice. She laughs at my apparent lack of intelligence and starts forwards, making her way slowly towards me. I feel a familiar tingle in my stomach as she crawls forward on the bed and plants herself in my lap, straddling my legs. She's definitely not wearing any panties. My hands instinctively rest on her hips as I stare directly into her eyes.

"Hi," she says, wrapping her arms around my neck.

"Hi," I reply with a chuckle. She moves her lips to mine and gives me an all too brief kiss before moving her lips to my neck, kissing and biting the skin there. "I love you," I say again, just because I love the feeling of saying it out loud. She hums against my neck and shivers slightly as my hands run up her thighs and slip beneath her t-shirt.

Slowly, she begins to rock her hips forwards, grinding against my erection though the thin sheets covering me. I let out a loud moan, glad that my family aren't currently in the house, and pull her lips roughly to mine, pushing my tongue inside her mouth. She rips the sheets out of the way impatiently and positions herself above my cock.

"Wait," I say, reluctant to stop. "Condom." She shakes her head, eager to continue.

"On the pill," she exhales, neither of us wasting time formulating complete sentences. I nod and bite down on her bottom lip as she slides down onto me slowly. We moan in synchronisation. We don't waste time building up to it; she moves quickly, using my shoulders as leverage and I lift my hips up to meet her thrusts.

She screams my name as she comes, and it's enough to send me over the edge. She rests against my chest are our breathing returns to normal.

"I love you, too," she replies. I smile against her hair and flip us over suddenly so I'm resting above her. She squeals and I smother it with a hard kiss. I pull away and tickle her sides lightly, rejoicing in the way she squirms beneath me, laughing and scrunching her nose up cutely. I stop and look at her, breathing heavily beneath me, her eyes shining.

"I could get used to this," I whisper, affectionately pushing some of her hair behind her ear. She smirks.

"What?" she quips. "Being with me, or morning sex?" I laugh and pretend to mull it over for a few seconds.

"Hmm, both," I finally say, laughing again when she hits my arm playfully. I smile and lean down to kiss her again.

"Well, you have the whole of spring break to get used to it. And hopefully a lot longer after that."

* * *

><p>I smile in contentment, my eyes closing behind my sunglasses as I tilt my head back, letting the sun wash over my face. I'm leaning against the side of my truck, waiting for Violet to come out so I can drive her to school for our first day back.<p>

I can't remember a time when I've felt as happy as I do now. Spending spring break with Violet was now one of my favourite memories. I'd wake up, almost everyday, with her naked body pressed up against mine and I'd wonder how I'd got so lucky.

The visions hardly ever appeared now. On the occasion when Violet wasn't with me, they'd creep into my mind, plague my thoughts like they used to. But the smallest memory of her lips against mine, her hands on my skin, the softness of her voice as she whispers _I love you_ is enough to push them into the depths of my mind where they belong.

The voices are a little trickier though. Even when Violet is curled up in my arms, I can sometimes hear them. They tell me I'm being selfish, that she deserves to be safe, that she shouldn't be with a monster like me. But then she looks up at me, her big brown eyes shining with love and I don't care.

I open my eyes as I hear her front door shut and grin at her as she walks towards me.

"You look really hot in those sunglasses," is all she says before she reaches up, locks her arms around my neck and kisses me deeply. I laugh and try to pull away after a few seconds.

"Vi, what if your parents see us?" I ask, glancing nervously towards her house. Her dad seems to have gotten a lot more comfortable around me, even proclaiming that I'm getting better, that he's seen a great improvement in my behaviour. He doesn't think I'm a danger to myself or anyone else anymore. He still doesn't know that the reason for my sudden improvement isn't his therapy sessions, but his daughter, and I don't think he'd be that happy if he ever did find out. Especially about some of the… less than gentlemanly things I've been doing to her…

"You know," she starts, dropping her arms to her sides, a determined look in her eyes. "I don't care what they think anymore. I'm gonna tell them about us," she says, looking up at me from under her eyelashes, suddenly shy. I feel my eyes prick with tears and lean down to give her a tender kiss.

"I love you," I tell her for about the one thousandth time. She grins up at me as she always does.

"I know," she replies cheekily before moving to get into the car. I don't let go of her hand for the entire drive.

We walk across the parking lot, our hands still joined. Violet stumbles slightly as someone smacks into her shoulder and my hand tightens around hers instinctively to steady her. We both turn around once she's regained her balance to see who it was.

I recognise Leah as soon as I lay eyes on her, but something's off. She has yellowing bruises on her jaw and around her right eye. It looks like she's tried to conceal them with makeup but failed miserably.

"You're gonna get a lot worse next time, Harmon," she sneers at Violet before stomping away. Violet lets out a humourless laugh and continues walking, pulling me with her. My brow is still furrowed though and I question her.

"What's she talking about, Vi?" I ask, suddenly unsure of whether I want to know the answer. Violet laughs again, shrugging her shoulder nonchalantly.

"Nothing important. She's still just pissed that I beat her in that fight…" she trails off suddenly, realising what she's just done. I told her to make sure I didn't find out who she was fighting with. In case I did something bad.

"It was Leah?" I say though gritted teeth, my hands clenching into fists, one of them still wrapped around Violet's hand. She looks down at her hand, wincing a little but I'm too lost in the red to register I'm hurting her.

"Yeah… Tate, look, I'm fine. She's worse off than me, isn't she? It doesn't matter, Tate. Just leave it… Ow, Tate, you're hurting my hand…" she says, wincing again and it's enough to knock me out of my stupor. I look into her eyes suddenly, seeing her frown. I release her hand and pull her to my chest.

"I'm so sorry, Violet. I didn't mean to hurt you. Forgive me?" I say, pleading with my eyes. She runs her hand over my cheek and I lean into her touch.

"Don't look so worried, Tate. It's nothing. You're just concerned for me. I get it. But… please, don't do anything, okay? It's all okay," she pleads, looking at me directly in the eyes. I nod, not trusting my voice. It would probably betray me.

I'm not going to do anything _bad_. I just need her to stop tormenting Violet. She doesn't deserve it. If I just scared her a little…

* * *

><p>Violet hasn't come out of class yet when I see Leah standing by her locker. I skulk up to her, smiling slightly, menacingly. I lean against the locker next to hers.<p>

"Hello, coke whore," I mutter quietly. She jumps and slams her locker door shut, glaring when she realises it's me. She stands up a little straighter and places her hand on her hip, looking at me through narrowed eyes.

"What do you want, freak? Finally bored of your little play thing?" she says venomously. I don't let her jibe phase me.

"I just got some new shit in, I know how much you like it," I say, still grinning at her, watching her thoughts play out on her face. She eyes me suspiciously.

"I thought you didn't deal anymore," she queries. I chuckle and shrug my shoulders.

"Thought I needed to get a hobby again." She doesn't say anything. "So? Do you want some or not?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. She pauses.

"Sure. When?"

"Come to my house after school. I assume you still remember where it is?" I quip. She glares at me and turns away with a snort. I smile triumphantly. The bitch won't know what's hit her.

I feel a small wave of guilt as I see Violet coming towards me down the hall, smiling brightly. I'm doing the right thing, I tell myself. I'm suddenly unsure whether it was me or the voices that tell me that, but I brush it aside. Leah won't be bothering Violet anymore after what I have planned for her. Violet will be even happier. Everything will work out fine.

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><p><strong>I meant to upload this the other day but FF wouldn't let me login! Grr. Anyway, it's up now so I hope you enjoyed it and reviews would be lovely! :D <strong>

**Thank you to everyone who read/reviewed the last chapter too! :D **

**Oh, and the sunglasses Tate wears in this chapter are the ones Evan Peters wore in the Nylon photoshoot because, let's face it, they made him look even hotter than normal! :P**

**Also, if you have any requests for fics you would like me to write then please feel free to leave them in a review or PM me. I'm always looking for new ideas and could always use your help :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Violet**

I spend most of the day – when I'm with Tate – trying to get him to smile at me like he has been doing for the entirety of spring break. He suddenly seems distant and unfocused, like his mind keeps drifting to somewhere else. I pull him back to the present with chaste kisses and he smiles at me briefly before slipping away again. I feel anger start to boil inside of me and I've never hated High School as much as in this moment. Everything was perfectly good until we came back. The thing about High School is that there's always someone to ruin it. We'd barely been back a day and already our spring break bubble had burst.

He drives us home in silence and I lean in to give him the most passionate kiss I can muster. He's stiff and unresponsive at first but then I feel him relax into me and put effort into the kiss, gripping my waist and using his tongue. We pull away, both breathless and lean our foreheads together.

"I _love_ you," I say forcefully, hoping to knock him out of whatever has come over him. He smiles and lets out a small relieved moan, almost as if he suddenly doubted that I did.

"I love you, too, so much," he whispers. I pull back and give him one last smile before I get out of his truck and close the door. I think I hear him mumbled something else but I can't be sure.

I walk into the house and see my parents sitting in the living room. I decide that this is as a good a moment as any to tell them about me and Tate. I fling my bag to the side and sit down in the arm chair, trying to ignore the gaping look my parents are giving me for actually joining them instead of heading straight for my room. My mom recovers herself first.

"How was your day, Vi?" she asks, not paying any attention to the TV anymore. I shrug my shoulders.

"Okay, I guess," I mutter, never sure how to answer that question. Her smile widens a little because I haven't said terrible.

"Good," she says a little too enthusiastically. "Have you made any new friends yet?" she adds another question. I shrug, not saying anything in response yet. I need a way to lure them into the 'you know that guy you treat; the psycho who wants to shoot up the school? yeah, we're kinda dating' speech. I turn to dad.

"Hey, you know that guy from next door you treat, Tate?" I begin, hoping not to sound too interested but failing miserably. "How's he doing? He seems… I don't know, different around school," I settle on saying, adding a shrug on at the end. He looks at me with narrowed eyes.

"Different how?" he says and I let out a small breath, glad he's only interested in Tate's behaviour and not my motives for asking. I try and help myself as much as possible.

"Like… happier. Sort of… better. I don't know, I just noticed," I say, worried I'm going too far with the hyping him up thing. Dad looks satisfied and a little _smug_ as I tell him this, and I'm hoping he'll launch into some monologue about how well Tate's been doing in sessions. He doesn't disappoint.

"Well, that's good! He has seemed so different in our last few sessions – good different. I think we're really getting to the roots of his problems. You know, I don't think he's really a bad kid at all; never really had the potential either. It was probably mainly due to a chemical imbalance but there was something – that I obviously seemed to have straightened out – that was quite worrying at first. Something that could have gotten out of control. Hopefully he will continue the good progress." He suddenly turns to look me directly in the eye. "But I still want you to stay away from him, Violet." The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stand up. "He could snap at any moment…" he trails off as I stand up.

"He's not like that!" I all but yell at him defensively.

"And how would you know, Violet? I thought I told you to stay away from him!" His voice rises with his anger. I scoff.

"Yeah? Well I didn't. That's what I was here to tell you anyway. Tate and I have been seeing each other since we first moved here."

"Violet!" he yells, standing up.

"What? What is your problem with that?"

"He could hurt you!"

"Tate would never hurt me… he loves me!"

"Love? Violet, that monster doesn't know what love is!"

"Don't you dare. He's not a monster! How could you even _say_ that?"

"Violet, I treat him. I know what he's like…"

"No! You don't; you don't know anything about him. Not really."

"I know enough to know he's _dangerous_, Vi!"

"That's not what you were saying a few seconds ago! You know what? I don't need your _permission_. I'm 18; I can do what I like," I finish, fleeing the room and heading up the stairs, holding back the tears. I hear him start to come after me.

"Ben," I hear my mother's soft voice. "Let her go. Why do you have to be so hard on her? She's 18 and she's in love, just let her be." It's the first time I'm grateful to my mom in a long time.

"But Vivien, that boy is dangerous, he could hurt her," my dad tries his best to salvage a losing battle.

"If he loves her, he won't hurt her," my mom says pointedly, shaming my dad more than any other comment could have. I don't hear anymore of their conversation as I continue down the hall and slam my door shut behind me.

I waste no time heading for the window, needing to see Tate's face, hear his voice, and have him reassure me that it's okay; that we'll be okay. I call his name softly but he's not in his room. I furrow my brow. He's always in his room. He always says how mad he'd go if he spent too much time with the rest of his 'family'.

I'm about to turn away when a movement catches my eye. Someone's walking up to the Langdon's front porch. I squint, leaning out of the window as I try to make out a face. It's the outfit I recognise first. Leah. Leah is walking up to Tate's front door. My heart leaps into my throat as a million different possibilities fly through my mind.

I shake my head, trying to clear away the images that are raising bile in my throat. He wouldn't do that. I can't even _count_ the times he's told me he loves me anymore.

I wait for a while longer but they haven't gone to his room. I bite back tears and convince myself that I'm being entirely realistic as I reach out and grab the branch closest to me, swinging with practised ease into his room.

I crack open his door as quietly as possible and glance down the hallway. I wince as every floorboard creaks under my feet as I make my way towards the stairs. Voices suddenly float up to me and I freeze.

"Where are you taking me, Tate?" I hear Leah ask in annoyance. Doesn't she know why she's here? Did Tate just invite her?

"The basement. I don't keep it in my room anymore. Constance was getting too close," I hear Tate reply in a tone of voice that I've never heard him use before. It's hard and menacing and slightly sadistic. I feel dread crawling through my body. It? What is 'it'?

"If you're pulling something, freak…"

"What's you're problem?" His accompanying laugh is cruel and frightening.

"I _want_ my goddamn drugs." Drugs? He's dealing her drugs. A confusing mixture of relief and fear spreads through me. I don't know which I'm supposed to feel.

They disappear through the basement door and I run to catch it before it bangs shut, slipping in and letting it close naturally. I walk a couple of paces behind them, taking care to keep my steps in time to theirs.

"So, where is it?" she asks in annoyance.

"Right here," Tate mutters threateningly. There's a scream as Tate pushes Leah forwards and a sharp slap as her hands hit the concrete. The lights blow and we're in complete darkness.

The first thing that happens is Tate's manic laughter fills the air. It's like when you're a child and you're forced on the ghost train. There's a section with an abandoned circus and there's a jack-in-the-box laughing over and over again, out of control hysterics. Then a low growl builds up from somewhere in the corner of the basement. It turns into a guttural snarl as something is thrashing against restraints. I don't even realise until I'm almost touching Tate that I've walked forward.

Suddenly there's a hand on my back and I'm shoved in with Leah, my screams mixing with her already frantic ones as the lights flick on and off, not long enough for us to see what's happening around us, but just long enough to give our imaginations adequate material to make it up. I scurry quickly back on the floor until my back hits a wall. I scream, my lungs burning, as bloodied teeth gnash at me, inches from my face.

In another instant, they're gone and Leah's shriek intensifies. She's thrashing around on the floor and then everything is quiet.

"Mommy." I heard her terrified whisper before there's one last snarl and the ripping of flesh. Leah lets out a blood curdling scream as the lights come back on permanently. She writhes on the floor for a few more seconds before she realises she can see where she is again. I catch a glimpse of three red gashes down her cheek as she holds her hand to her face and runs out screaming. I pick myself up off the floor and chase after her.

"Leah, wait!" I screech, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. I turn, my eyes filled with unshed tears and my heart beating erratically, to face Tate. The moment I see his warm eyes, the tears gush down my cheeks. His face drops.

"Hey! Violet, it's okay! It was just a dog, see?" he says, holding onto a lively mutt as he ties the end of its leash to a nearby pipe for the time being. I can see a raw, bloody steak in the corner of the room too. He steps towards me once he's finished and I stare at him in horror. He reaches his arms out for me but I take a quick step back, shaking my head minutely. "Violet, she won't bother you again. We showed that bitch!" He's pleading with his eyes, begging me to forgive him, to see that he was only trying to help. He rushes towards me and I shove him back roughly, surprised by my strength as he stumbles.

"Get away from me!" I scream, despite my already hoarse throat. "I told you not to, Tate! Stay away from me!" I continue to screech as I race up the stairs, half blinded by my tears. I hear his voice as I reach the basement door.

"I did this for _you_! I thought you weren't afraid of anything!"

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><p>I burst through my front door, frantically wiping tears from my face. My dad appears, holding a glass and a dishtowel in his hands. His eyes grow wide as he takes in my state.<p>

"Violet? Vi, honey, what happened?" I push past time and head for the stairs. "Was this Tate's doing?" he shouted behind me, a pleased edge creeping into his voice. My anger flares.

"Could you please just not gloat?" I scream as I head for the bathroom, pulling out my razor blades and slicing, quick and sharp, across my skin.

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><p><strong>I thought I'd give you another update quickly because it took me a while to get the last one up :P<strong>

**Thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed so far, I love you all, keep doing what you're doing! :D**

**If you have any suggestions for fics you'd like me to write, feel free to PM me or leave it in a review :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Tate**

I blink a couple of times, rubbing my nose as the tingling sensation moves to the back of my throat. I lean down and clean up the second white strip before lying back on my bed and closing my eyes, watching the shapes and colours dance behind my lids.

I don't cry anymore; I've done enough of that and I don't have any tears left. I didn't speak anymore either. I'd spent the first… I don't know, days, weeks, shouting at Violet's closed shutters, begging her to talk to me, to forgive me. It wasn't that bad – what I'd done – was it? I was just trying to make High School a better place for her. Was that so bad?

She ignores me round school, too. I try desperately to catch her eye when we're in the halls but she always finds a way to avoid me. Some days I just don't see her at all. I think she stays home a lot more now. It's not like she needs to learn anything new anyway. She's already smarter – better – than anyone at that shit hole.

I sit up suddenly on my bed, holding my joint hands to my lips and bouncing my legs up and down. My body is on fire, every nerve ending a live wire. There's an annoying tapping noise inside my head and I grab at my hair, pulling, trying to get it to go away; it's worse than the voices, echoing through my skull.

"Tate? Are you in there?" Constance's voice comes from the other side of the closed door; the annoying tapping noise is her knocking repeatedly on the wood. I don't answer, squeezing my eyes shut as if that would make her go away. "Tate." She doesn't wait for a reply and opens the door, not entering but standing in the doorway.

I look up at her from under hooded eyes, my face twisted into a vicious scowl. She's holding a cigarette between her fingers, unfazed by my glare as she blows the smoke out angrily. We look at each other for a minute or so, in silence, before she scoffs and shakes her head slightly.

"I don't have time for your games anymore, Tate. Your whole… act is getting old. Dinner is on the table, and you _are_ going to come down and eat with us. Now," she slurs; clearly there are already a few scotches in her. She leaves without closing my door and I stand silently, not in the right frame of mind to argue with her – I have no words left to waste on her anyway.

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><p>Larry and Addie are already sitting at the table when I trudge downstairs. Addie flashes me an overly happy smile as I take my place opposite her and a rush of guilt flows through me for neglecting her recently to spend time with… otherwise engaged. I smile back as warmly as I can manage before someone at the table gets the wrong idea and tries to strike up a conversation with me.<p>

Constance teeters in on her heels holding some kind of casserole dish in her hands, the contents of which is enough to turn even the strongest of stomachs. The smell alone makes me want to retch. I look around the table to see if anyone else has noticed the poison in the dish but all I see are happy faces. Larry is beaming at my mother, completely blinded by his 'love' for the cocksucker.

"It looks wonderful, darling," he says, his voice gentle and adoring – it triggers my gag reflex more than the food does. She gives him a half hearted smile that he doesn't seem to notice and she takes her seat at the table.

I push the food around my plate, wondering what I'm still doing here. I don't even have any idea as to why Constance put so much effort into getting me to sit at dinner, trying to perfect her charade of a happy, untainted family I suppose. I jump, but only slightly, when her fist comes down on the table.

"For God's sake, Tate! Could you at _least_ make an effort to be a part of this family? Instead you sit there looking like you've been sentenced to Hell," she moans at me, reaching for another cigarette and tapping it against the table irritably.

"Haven't I?" I reply testily, with a smirk, turning to look at her out of the corner of my eye. "Isn't that where I'm headed, Constance? Straight to the fiery pits of Hell!" I yell the last part, leaning towards her, daring her to challenge me. Her eyes shine with angry tears. I like to think that they are partly from fear, too.

"You know, Tate, unlike your siblings, you were _graced_ with so many gifts! How is it that you cannot bring yourself to use them? Just a smile, or a kind word, could open the gates to Heaven!" she shoots back at me, using my brothers and sisters disabilities as fuel for her argument. I think of Beau and tears spring to my own eyes for the first time in a while.

"Well at least I know there's no way of you getting the asshole to suffocate me in the attic without getting caught. There's nothing for you to blame it on!" I can see her harsh intake of breath as she listens to my coke induced arguing. I barely have time to flinch before her hand raises and smacks me across the left side of my face. It stings and I'm sure there's a cut on my cheek from her ring.

"Beau died of _natural causes_!" she screams, sounding more like she's trying to convince herself than me. "Why can't you be as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside?" I snort and wipe the back of my hand over my cheek, smearing the blood away. I turn to face her slowly, her body shaking slightly. I stand up from my chair, creating a horrible screech across the wooden floor. I glare down at her, my height allowing me to look down on her.

"No matter how much you want it," I speak quietly, sending shivers down her spine. "I will _never_ be your perfect son." I don't wait for her reply as I walk from the room, not turning around once.

"Well, let's eat, shall we?" I hear Constance's attempt to salvage the dinner, her voice light and breezy. I want nothing more than to turn back and slit her throat with her own crystal wine glasses, but that is for later.

* * *

><p>I pace up and down my room, tugging at my hair as the voices whisper erratically inside my head. My eyes flick, occasionally, to the underside of my bed, at the guns I know are lying under there from when I stole them from the boxes of my father's belongings that he left behind. My fingers are itching to reach for them, the voices spurring me on.<p>

And for the first time, I _want_ to listen to them.

I turn to the window momentarily, looking once more at Violet's closed window. Mine has been open every day and every night since she pushed me away, just in case she wanted to come back in; to come back to me where she belongs.

Instead of hopeless longing, rage boils up inside of me as I stare at the window. I storm forwards and slam the window shut, shutting everybody out again, like I always should have. I should have never let anyone get to me.

My alarm blares as the numbers flick over to 7AM and I crouch by the bed, grabbing the guns and loading them, ready for my day as hero.

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><p><strong>Violet<strong>

My cheeks haven't been dry for a long time; a constant stream of salt water seems to flow down my face. I don't know why I'm being so stubborn. I want nothing more than to forgive Tate. The more I think about it, the more stupid I feel. He was only trying to help me! Sure, he went against my will and did something about Leah, but he was doing it for _me._ For us, so that we could be happy like we had been for spring break.

I almost couldn't handle it anymore when he started screaming at my closed window. I buried my face in my pillows and clamped my hands over my ears. I could still hear him, begging and pleading with me. I wracked up quite a big fresh line of cuts on my arms. I wanted to get rid of the idiocy in me that wasn't letting him back in.

He'd tried to get to me at school too. Eventually, I'd stopped going, cutting classes, ditching altogether. It hurt to see his pained face at every turn, never knowing when he'd appear.

His window had been open since then, never once shut, day or night. I stared at it sometimes through my shutters, trying to convince myself that all I needed to do was swallow my pride and crawl into his loving embrace. I never did.

I felt like I was falling apart. And then I walk past my window and his is shut.

That's all I need to come to my senses. I wrench my window open in a frenzy crawl clumsily through it, reaching for the nearest branch blindly.

"Tate." His name slips from my lips before I can stop it. Precariously clinging onto the tree, I try to pull open his window, letting out a relieved breath when it opens. I slip through, landing with my usual gracelessness on his floor. "Tate, I…"

I trail off when I hear the unmistakeable click of a gun. His back is to me, his head bent forwards slightly. He turns towards me, his eyes wide and frenzied, his breathing ragged and heavy, his finger on the trigger of the gun pointing directly at me.

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><p><strong>Thank you so much to everyone who has readreviewed so far, and thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter :) Keep doing what you're doing!**

**Special shout-out to XxTateLangdonxX whose message made me keep writing :D **

**If you have any requests for fics you'd like me to write, feel free to leave them in a review or PM me :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Violet**

My breathing catches in my throat and I feel like I'm suffocating, suddenly at a loss at how to breathe. My legs begin quaking uncontrollably and I fear I may collapse; the only thing stopping me is the thought that if I move an inch, he'll pull the trigger. My whole body breaks out into a cold sweat as I stare directly into the eyes of my love.

"Tate," I whisper, my shaking voice barely piercing the atmosphere. He doesn't move in the slightest. He's looking at me through clouded eyes, as if he's not really seeing that it's me standing in front of him. I tear my eyes away from him for a second, searching the room frantically. I spot it on the dresser; a mirror, an old library card and some rolled up dollar bills. I inwardly exhale in distress; this is going to be so much harder with him high. He told me that he used to do coke, but he stopped after it made him ten times worse than his sober self.

I take a few more deep breaths and try to calm myself down. He hasn't moved at all since he turned around when I first entered. I take that as a good sign; he's hesitant, unsure and, hopefully, unwilling.

"Tate, love, where did you get the gun?" I ask first, unsure as to how to go about this. Where do I start? What do I say? How do I get him to stop pointing that gun at me? His boot shifts slightly on the floor, causing me to brace my body for the impact of the bullet that still doesn't come. I know that I'm not scared of him, only the gun in his hand and the drugs in his system. I mentally curse myself for leaving him stranded.

"Don't!" he shouts suddenly, his voice so loud in the tense silence of the room. I wince, my whole body jumping, and I await the never-coming bullet again. "Don't speak. You're not here; you're not real. Violet's gone. Get out of my head, get out!" The gun finally isn't pointing at me anymore as he moves both of his hands to his head, hitting it violently, tugging harshly on his blonde curls. "Get out!"

The gun brushes along the side of his head every so often, his finger still dangerously close to the trigger. My heart is pounding so hard I think it's going to burst through my chest. Just one wrong move and…

I rush forward, too scared for him to worry about my own safety anymore. I hesitantly place my hands on both of his arms, gaining more confidence as he doesn't snap and shoot me straight through the skull. I slowly start gripping his arms, trying to get him to stop hurting himself, repeatedly bashing his fists against his head. I can see a wound starting to open up where the barrel of the gun connects with his forehead each time. My lips start to tremble and tears blur my vision as I watch him hurt himself. Anger flares up inside of me as he doesn't respond to my touch, except a small wail.

"Tate! Tate, stop it, please!" I beg. "You're hurting yourself, stop! I'm here; I'm not in your head, I'm right here. It's me, it's Violet. I love you!" I babble, hoping some of my words will sink in through his haze. I tug his hands down with one final pull and he raises his eyes to mine again, tears streaming down his cheeks and more still pooled in his eyes. I cautiously move my hand to his – the one holding the gun, hoping to take it away from him, but his grip tightens again reflexively. He takes a deep breath in through his nose and straightens his back slightly, but not blinking away the tears or looking away.

"If you're here – if you're real – why did you come back? Why are you here with a _monster_ like me?" he murmurs, his voice quivering heartbreakingly. I cup his cheek in my palm and try to give him a reassuring smile.

"Because I love you. Because you are who I want to be with, for as long as I can be. I didn't realise how much I couldn't stand to lose you until you shut your window; until you shut me out. I wouldn't know how to live anymore if you were gone. I _need_ you, Tate. You may think you're a monster, but you're just playing host. It's not really you, you're so much better than you think," I whisper, not able to raise my voice any louder as I pour out my feelings to him, more exposed than I've ever been, scared of being rejected.

He whines in a mixture of longing and happiness. My heart lurches as he becomes child-like again. He's the innocent I like best again. His grip loosens on the gun and I pry it gently from his fingers, taking out the bullets as his hand swings, empty, by his side, and throw the offending items across the room.

I wrap my arms around his waist and bring his deflating body towards mine. He's almost my Tate again. The Tate who only fantasises about shooting up the school, not the one who actually does it. He smiles down at me weakly, but I know that if his body would let him, he'd be giving me his grin, my grin; the grin he reserves only for me.

"I love you, Violet," he whispers softly, leaning into me heavily. "I'm so sorry. I don't know how…" he trails off as I shush him gently. He leans down further, eyeing me closely, gauging my reaction, before pressing his lips gently to mine. He pulls back after one long, still kiss, searching my eyes once again. I know that all he can see is acceptance and love; it's all I can see in his too. I catch sight of the other guns resting on top of his bed.

I push him slowly back, connecting his lips with mine again as the back of his knees reach the bed and he sits down, not breaking the kiss, with me leaning over him. I reach around him, grasping at the comforter, trying to find the rest of the weapons. I drop them to the floor as quietly as possible – I don't think Tate is even aware of the world around him as he presses his mouth desperately to mine – and kick them away, letting them slide across the floor. I'd deal with them later.

I break the kiss, feeling him strain towards me as I tear my lips from his. He looks like a small puppy, awaiting orders from an owner he'd do anything for. His midnight black eyes are wide and innocent, staring right through me, making me shiver – with what, I'm not sure.

I crawl onto his bed, moving behind him to rest up against the headboard slightly, arranging his pillows into a comfortable position, before reaching out to him with both hands, grasping at the air impatiently. He scrambles to climb up on the bed, shuffling towards me and lying down with his head on my chest. He curls up against me, his body bending into a tight ball. His eyes close and his face relaxes, as it does when he's close to me, as I comb my fingers through his soft curls, across his cheeks, his eyelids, his lips. I lean down and place periodic, tender kisses to any surface I can reach. He moans in contentment, the sound distorted as his mind shuts down and he drifts off to sleep.

* * *

><p>I wait for a few moments before I move, happy just to sit here with him in my arms, but the guns are glaring at me from the other side of the room. I grit my teeth as I try to move out from under him without waking him, letting out a relieved breath when he only stirs to curl himself around the pillow I've just vacated.<p>

I am at a loss as to what to do with the guns as I stare at them on the floor. I don't know where he had gotten them from or if they'd be missed, but I know that the safest thing would be to get rid of them. I decide to put them in my room until I could get rid of them properly.

I climb in next to Tate again, smiling slightly to myself as he pulls me close to him, his hand resting tenderly on my back. I stay there, watching him sleep off his high, my eyes never leaving his face.

* * *

><p>He groans slightly as he wakes up, scrunching his eyes tightly before opening them and blinking erratically, his eyes adjusting, his pupils shrinking as they take in the light. His eyes flick around before settling on my face. He smiles before looking panicked, tightening his grip on me and leaning away from me in the same moment.<p>

"Violet," he croaks, his voice rough and thick with sleep. "Violet, did I do it? Did I do…?" He can't finish his sentence and I can feel his whole body start to tremble and he looks away from me. I grab his face in my hands quickly, brushing my thumbs over his cheeks and pulling his gaze to mine.

"No! Tate, you didn't do anything. It's fine; you're fine," I say hurriedly, reassuringly. His eyes are full with fresh tears and I can't remember the amount of times I've seen Tate cry. I don't want him to cry anymore. His brow furrows as he's thinking, trying to remember. His face goes blank as something clicks in his head.

"I… I held a _gun_ to you, Violet," he barely whispers. He looks horrified with himself, loosening his grip on me, as if he's keeping me here against my own will. I press myself up against him, not wanting distance between up ever again. "Why are you still here? What if I'd _killed _you? I'm dangerous, Violet!" His voice rises, sounding pained and scared and confused. I shake my head and lean in for a kiss as delicate as the brush of butterfly wings.

"But you didn't. Don't you see, Tate? This… thing, this monster; it's not you. You didn't hurt me because _you_ didn't want to. You love me too much," I mumble, blushing slightly. I took a shaky breath. "I'm here because I don't ever want to lose you. I could have today, Tate. If you'd gone to school and… carried out those things you told my dad… they would have taken you away from me, Tate. How could you do that?" I ask him, my voice rising as I let the small amount of anger in me take over. He looks so wounded as he tries to tell me his reasoning.

"I thought you were gone forever, Vi. I didn't think… after what I'd done, that I was ever getting you back. I had nothing left to live for. You're all I have." He smiles bashfully. "But you're still here. Just like in the beginning, you didn't run screaming. I can't believe how lucky I am." His face turns serious. "I _promise_ you, I will never do anything to push you away ever again. I will never let anyone harm you and if I ever try to do something like that again," he cringes, his body rejecting the memory of his gun pointed at me. "Promise me that you'll get out… while you still can." He holds my gaze so that I couldn't look away even if I wanted to. The thought of Tate being away from me makes me feel sick to my stomach, but I manage a nod anyway. He looks a little more relieved as he presses a loving kiss to my forehead and pulls me to his side.

We lay there, in his room, the morning anything but forgotten, but not important anymore. I stayed with him and I stopped him from doing something that could have torn so many people's worlds apart. It was enough, for now, to just lie in each others embrace and look up at his blank ceiling, untainted by the blood of others.

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><p><strong>Just wanted to say thank you <em>so <em>_much_ for all your reviews for the last chapter and so far! They are all so lovely and make me so happy! :D I'm glad you're liking this story as much as I like writing it. Thank you, also, to everyone who is just reading this fic. :)**

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter and reviews are always appreciated! :D **


	10. Chapter 10

**Tate**

I watch her eyelids flicker as she dreams, a small crease between her eyebrows and the corners of her mouth are turned down slightly. I run my fingers gently over the side of her head, through her hair, down her cheek. I lean forward and kiss away her furrowed brow, her frown. Her face contorts for a second before relaxing, a small hum coming from between her lips as she nestles down further into the sheets.

I can't stop the rush of guilt I feel as I think of what I could have taken away; of what I could have had taken away from myself. I bite my lip to hold in a sob, as not to wake her, and let silent tears follow down the still-wet trails on my cheeks. I'd never see the soft rise and fall of her chest again, the way she rolls her eyes, the way she blows out smoke. But she stopped me. She stayed with me.

I let out a shaky breath as the last rays of light for the day slip beneath the horizon and the day is gone. I'm not sure whether this was the worst day of my life or the best. I got my Violet back, but nearly took her away all at the same time. She's here, I chant in my head over and over, trying to forget all the scenarios of what could have happened and focus on what did.

She moans slightly, parting her lips and letting her tongue peek out to run across her dry lips. Just the simple act of her waking up is enough to send a shudder through me. It has been too long since I was close enough to put my hands on Violet, feel her melt under my hands. Her light brown eyes flicker open and her face breaks into a breathtaking smile when her eyes meet mine.

"I don't deserve the way you look at me," I whisper, my voice rough from disuse. "_You_ deserve better than me." Despite my words, I pull her impossibly closer to me, locking her in my embrace. "I'm not normal." Her smile never falters as she reaches up to place her hands on either side of my face.

"I don't like normal things," she whispers, leaning forwards to press his lips gently to mine. Her lips barely ghost over mine at first and I try and stay desperately still, letting her set the pace as I let her words sink in, fill me up with happiness.

She kisses me tenderly for a while longer before growing impatient, curving every inch of her body to mine and running her tongue across my bottom lip. I gasp into the kiss and let her tongue slide inside my mouth, exploring every inch. I fight back with my own now, momentarily distracting her by rolling her underneath me and rutting my hips against her core. I wrestle my tongue into her mouth and feel her melt under my touch.

My hands trail down her body to her breasts and I begin to knead them through her shirt. She moans into my mouth and I feel myself grow harder instantly. I trail my lips down her neck, nipping, licking and sucking gently at the pulsing flesh. Tingles spread through my body, heading south, as she writhes under my body, my hands, my lips doing this to her.

"Tate, please…" she breaths out, her hands gripping my shoulders, her head falling back against the pillows, tilting upwards, her back arching. I don't need to hear anymore as I pull her shirt roughly from her body, removing her bra too and taking her nipple in my mouth, biting the sensitive flesh delicately.

She grabs handfuls of my shirt desperately, clawing at my back as she pulls it from my body, running her fingers down my chest, making me shiver. Her hands travel lower, toying with my belt buckle. Before she can undo it, I press a harsh kiss to her bruised lips and pull her skirt and panties down in one motion. She groans as the cold air hits her heated core.

The sight of her, naked and waiting, beneath me is too much. I hastily remove my pants and boxers, flinging them somewhere across the room. I settle myself between her open legs and stare down at my light in the darkness. I tilt my hips forwards slightly, teasing her entrance with the tip of my cock.

"Tate," she whimpers, thrusting her hips forwards, trying to pull me inside of her. I pull back slightly and wait until she's looking at me, directly in the eyes.

"I love you, Violet," I say firmly, pouring all of my emotions into my voice, trying to make sure she fully understands how much I can't live without her, how sorry I am. She reaches up to cup my cheek.

"I love you, Tate," she murmurs back, the same amount of conviction in her voice. I lean down and kiss her passionately, finally thrusting inside.

We sigh in union as I fill her up, both of us finally feeling complete for the first time in so long. I start to move in and out slowly with long, deep thrusts. She matches my pace, lifting up her hips to meet mine, moaning as the angle allows my body to push against her clit.

I can feel her walls fluttering around my cock as her release draws closer. It's almost too hard for me to keep my control, but I refuse to come before she does. I pick up my pace, pummelling into her harder and faster. A string of profanities pours from her lips as I slip my hand between us to rub her bundle of nerves. She comes hard, the feeling of her walls clenching around me sending me over the edge, pulsing inside of her.

We both ride out our high before I collapse on top of her, loving the way she pulls me closer, holds me tighter and runs her shaking fingers through my damp hair. I roll off her eventually and bring her tight against my side.

"I'll always stay with you," she mutters after a moment of content silence. I smile and kiss her forehead tenderly, feeling my heart swell with emotions.

"Always," I breathe out in response, nuzzling into her hair.

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><p><strong>Violet<strong>

I'm thankful that it's dark as I'm driving home, the cover helping me to dispose of Tate's guns without anybody seeing me. I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders now that they're gone. We can get back to how we were finally.

My body still feels like jell-o as I smile to myself, knowing that I've gotten my Tate back and I prevented something terrible from happening. I left him finally after he'd reassured me, more than ten times, that he would be fine while I did what I had to do. I have every intention of crawling back through his window as soon as I get home, and every other night for as long as we live next door to each other.

I shut the front door behind me, as carefully as possible, and stealthily make my way to, and up, the stairs.

I can hear my parent fighting again as I pass their room, not bothering to stop and listen to what the argument is about. I think I'm safe when the door swings open suddenly and my dad storms out, not seeming to notice me straight away, a look of fury etched on his face.

"Oh, hey, Vi," he says cautiously, stopping in his tracks. I give him a half-hearted smile as I try to slip away after he's kissed the top of my head, still slightly pissed at him. He holds onto me a little longer than normal before giving me a sad smile and descending the stairs. I hear the front door slam shut and his car start before I begin to head towards my room again.

"Violet, are you there?" I hear my mom's voice call from somewhere inside of her room, and I let out a barely audible sigh.

"Yeah, mom," I say, not moving towards the door, hoping that I can get away as fast as possible, to see if Tate is alright. I'm still slightly twitchy and nervous.

"Can you come in here for a moment, please?" she says, and I begin to notice something off about her voice. I grudgingly trudge towards the door, furrowing my brow when I notice the red rings around her eyes.

"Mom? What's wrong?" I say awkwardly, not used to comforting my parents.

"Violet, honey, your dad and I aren't getting along as well as we thought we would. You know, with moving to LA and everything…" she trails off as I scoff slightly. I could have called that one. In fact, I did. "So, I thought it would be nice if, maybe, you and I went to stay with Aunt Jo in Florida for a while, before… moving back to Boston?" she looks away nervously. I bristle.

"What? You can't be serious! There is no way I'm leaving!" I can feel my cheeks heating up as all I can see is Tate's face. "Look, just because you and dad can't work out your fucked up marriage doesn't mean you have to drag me, and my happiness, down with you!" I scream, not waiting for her reply as I spin abruptly and leave the room, tears falling down my cheeks quickly. "I won't let you take me away," I mutter, more to myself than anyone. "I won't."

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><p><strong>Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, they make me so happy! :D<strong>

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter and, as you know, reviews are always appreciated! :) **


	11. Chapter 11

**I actually cannot believe how long it has been since I updated, well, anything! I'm sooooo sorry to keep you all waiting, I just wasn't getting any inspiration and I just couldn't write! But I've missed this fandom and decided I needed to get to it! So I hope it's ok! It's been so long since I wrote these characters that I don't even know if I've done them justice! **

**Anyway, sorry again and I hope you like it! Be patient with me, I'm trying to get back into this whole writing thing :) **

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><p><strong>Violet<strong>

It takes me a little longer than expected to calm myself down. I pace back and forth, my balled up fists shaking at my sides, carefully avoiding the open window. Something, I have to do something. I can't leave. For once in my life, I want to stay here. Trapped in my own personal hell with my own personal devil.

And I was the one securing the shackles.

I take a few steadying breaths and stop my nails from digging into my palms. I know I need to tread carefully. Anything could set Tate off again, and I have to be careful, for his own sake. I turn towards the window with conviction and set my foot up on the ledge. I see my hands tremble as I reach for the closest branches and force myself steady. Landing, twisted and mangled, on the pavement wouldn't help anything.

Tate's sitting, perched on the edge of his bed, nervously nibbling the tip of his thumb, when I finally land on his floor. His face floods with relief as I make my way over to him, and press my lips gently to his damp forehead.

"You're shivering," he mumbles, running his rough hands lightly up and down my arms, raising more goose bumps than there were before. I shrug nonchalantly and lean into his embrace, not wanting to tell him that is wasn't the cold making me quiver.

I sit in his lap, his hand rubbing soothing circles on my back as I try and find a way to… I don't know exactly what I want to do. Tell Tate. Just be here. Find a way to stay. None of them seem to have a clear way of proceeding. I pick up his other hand and play with his fingers, twisting his ring round and round on his thumb.

He watches me, his gaze flickering between my face and our hands. His breathing is deep and steady, his heart beat at a pace to match, and his lips are turned up slightly at the corners. I feel like I'm about to knock down a hastily built tower.

"Tate, I have to… I have to…" I try to speak, hoping that if I start talking, I will just know what I want to say. But still the words won't form, my tongue won't cooperate.

"You have to what, Violet?" His voice is so calm and probing – so very, very different to what it was just a few hours before. I know, somewhere in the depths of my mind, that his interchangeable moods should scare me. But I can't bring myself to be scared. Or maybe I am scared; maybe I just like it.

"My mom wants us to move back to Boston, but I have to stay here, with you," I rush out, getting my sentence finished before he has the chance to react to the first half.

My side is pressed securely against his chest, and I wait in silence, his heartbeat fluttering against my arm. As I wait, I focus on it intently, feeling for the minutest change in speed. But… nothing. It's as steady as before. Tate leans forward, sliding his hand from my back to my waist and holding me there as his lips move to my ear.

"Do you know what we should do, Violet?" His voice is so quiet that I'm glad he's so close for fear I won't hear him. His breath tickles and I want to move my hand to rub away the persistent sensation, but I can't move.

"No. No, Tate, what should we do?" I reply, desperateness creeping into my voice. I feel so needy. Like I've lost control. I can normally make all my own decisions and nobody's action can deter me. Lately, I feel like I can't even organise my thoughts properly. I'm frantic for someone to take control.

"We should runaway," Tate replies after letting my question hang in the air for sometime. His voice is excited and childish and I almost think he's high again. But then my limbs feel so disconnected, I begin to wonder if I'm high too. I don't think either of us has been sane for a while now. He seems to be making sense. It's all we can do.

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><p><strong>Tate<strong>

"We should runaway," she repeats, as if testing it out on her tongue. Her limbs are relaxed and weak as she sways slightly in my lap. "We should." Her voice is as firm as she can make it.

"We need to go now, though," I whisper in her ear. I can't lose her again. I need to take her with me, forever, somewhere where we can never be separated by the cocksuckers and adulterers and desperate, delusional mothers of the world.

"Ok," she mutters, her eyes staring forward, almost blankly, out of the window and into the night. I shift slightly, standing up, keeping my arms tightly around her. She blinks and turns to look at me. I lean down and press a swift kiss to her lips.

"We need to, I don't know, pack some stuff, to take with us. And money, we'll need to get money. A lot. What are we gonna do? Where are we gonna go?" Violet babbles, her cheeks filling with red as she panics over the details. I shush her gently and press my hand against the side of her face, tilting it up to make eye contact with her again.

"You don't need to worry about any of that. Just, come with me," I say soothingly, slipping my hand down to grasp her delicate fingers in mine. She looks confused but starts to move towards my door with me anyway.

"But, Tate, we need…" she starts, but doesn't finish her sentence, curious.

I climb into the driver's side of my truck and wait patiently for her to get in and shut the passenger door. We're doing it. We're going away.

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><p><strong>Violet<strong>

I light up a cigarette and roll down the window as Tate drives. I don't know where he's going, or what we are going to do, but I trust him. For every flaw he has, I have one too, and I trust him. I feel more like me than I have felt in a long time as I wipe all thoughts from my head and let the warm smoke fill my lungs and the night air rush against my face.

It's not long before Tate is stopping the truck and I realise we could have walked the distance he's driven. We _have_ walked it before. The sounds of the waves, barely visible in the night, reach my ears and I know we are at our beach. I try to think up reasons for him bringing us here before we go as we pick our way across the rocks to the shore. One final goodbye to our haven before we leave for good?

Tate's palm is damp and slippery in mine, and his breathing is erratic – from rushing down the beach or excitement, I'm not sure. He stops just short of the water, and stares out into the water. I blow out smoke and watch as it gets carried away by the sea breeze. Tate reaches over for my cigarette and closes his eyes as he takes a long drag, holding it in for as long as he can before letting it out. He drops the burning stick to the sand and tightens his grip on my hand, almost to the point of cutting off my circulation.

"This is it, Violet. This is our forever," he murmurs quietly, his voice almost lost to the waves. He turns to me and pulls me against his body. "I love you, Violet. Forever. And no one is ever going to get between us again." As if to accentuate his point, he presses himself closer to me.

I smile up at him, loving the feeling of every inch up against me. I reach up to rake my fingers through his soft curls, bringing his lips down to mine. I pour myself into the kiss – every feeling I have ever had for him goes into that one kiss. We pull apart, breathless and dizzy.

"Are you scared yet?" he asks cryptically, nudging his nose playfully against mine. All the other sounds around us seem to get drowned out in that moment.

"Scared of what?" I ask, a smirk planted firmly on my face.

He doesn't answer me, just straightens up and turns us both to face the ocean. He takes a few steps forward and, when my arm can't stretch any further, I tentatively take a couple of my own. I begin to hear the wet sand slapping under my shoes as we get close and closer to the waves. I cast a glance up at Tate. He looks so calm and rested, even. And he shows no sign of stopping.

Water starts to pour into my shoes, soaking through my socks and chilling my skin, sinking into my bones. Tate still doesn't make a noise, doesn't stop moving. It's getting harder and harder to lift my sinking feet, as well as being dragged back by the persistent waves. I don't know if I can stop. I don't know if I want to stop. I don't…

_This is it, Violet. This is our forever._ Suddenly I understand. But it doesn't shock me. I try to think back, to see if I always knew. If I did, I still came. I got in the car. I took the first steps towards oblivion. Our forever. I can't get myself to stop walking, to let go of his hand.

The water is rising above my waist now; the salty scent of the water is strong and verging on cloying. The mixture of salt and sweet is intoxicating.

"Tate, I…" I don't know what I'm going to say, but then that's it. The ground vanishes from beneath my feet and I'm falling… floating… something. Tate's hand is still firmly in mine and I spin this way and that in the water, searching for his eyes. The water stings and suffocates. But it's peaceful and quiet and tempting. I keep my air locked in tight, but succumb to the nothingness that is so welcoming.

This is it. Our forever. I want it. I welcome it. I… I don't want to die.

I begin to thrash in the water as I feel Tate's hold slipping away from me. I can't let go. All those times I thought I wanted this. I want to survive. I wanted to runaway with my devil, not sink with him. I twist and turn and struggle but something in the darkness has me.

My head feels like it's about to explode, my lungs are going to burst, and I can't stop my mouth from opening any longer. Relief is short lived as I take in a lungful of water before everything fades.

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><p><strong>Sorry for the cliff hanger! :P I hope no one is too confused by this chapter, basically, they were going to run away, but Tate's idea of running away is a little different than Violet's, just like how he wanted her to kill herself in the murder house (even though she was already dead), this time it's on their beach :) <strong>

** I hope you liked it and I would love if you let me know what you think! :) x**


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